


look at me baby, we'll be fine

by cxyst



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Cancer, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, i dont know!!!!!!!, this is dumb and cute!!!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-10
Updated: 2013-09-10
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:10:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cxyst/pseuds/cxyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>when harry wakes up, sunlight is streaming strong and bright though the window and his hair is in louis’ hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	look at me baby, we'll be fine

**Author's Note:**

> i dont know i really do not!! this is so so so dumb!! it's just a little short sad cutesy thing that i wrote in like a week and i dont know!!! i love everyone who reads this to the moon and back because its stupid and most likely v bad :)) 
> 
> ♡title from baby we'll be fine by the national♡

harry feels hazy. the sky outside his window is a smeary kind of grey, and he’s been looking at it for a long time. sometimes he thinks he sees faces, words, in the clouds. it makes his insides feel strange. (but that could just be the painkillers. it’s hard to tell, sometimes).

there are good days and bad days, and today he is weak. the sunlight is weak too. he watched it rise and fall from this window, a faded shaft of light making its way across the stark white of his sheets, up the opposite wall, and out of sight. he wants to know what the exact time is, wants count it out, but the strength to turn his head to the side and look at the clock is buried somewhere deep underneath the slow ticking of his thoughts. he can’t reach that deep today. the knowledge that it must be at least late afternoon is what keeps his eyes open. just a little longer.

he drifts for a while, until he hears the creak of the door, squeaky footsteps. it could be a nurse, until he hears a soft, smiling voice.

‘hey hey, harry babe,’ louis murmurs.

harry hears the thud as louis kicks off his shoes, the crackle of plastic as he puts a new present on the side table. harry is smiling already, but he still can’t move his head. it’s vaguely frustrating, to not be able to see louis, but he manages a croaky, ‘hey,’ to try and make up for it.

the bed dips, and, like louis knows, he slides his hand under harry’s cheek, gently helping him tilt his face back up straight. harry smiles wider. his mind is a little blurry, flickering, but louis is the sharpest image, like he’s in his own little spotlight. his fringe is hanging loose and soft, and he’s wearing his glasses and his white school button up. his lips are curled up in that special smile that’s just for harry.

harry wants to say thank you. he wants to reach up and touch louis hair, the cut of his cheek. he can’t gather the energy. instead he tilts his chin up, the tiniest movement, but enough for louis to notice. (he always notices).

louis wiggles up the bed and tucks his knee against harry’s side so he can lean down and kiss him gently. it’s all so careful. the touch of louis’ lips is barely there, and his hand still rests on harry’s cheek, reassuring him that he won’t let him slump again. louis nudges their noses together before pulling back. harry lets out a little sigh, still smiling.

louis smiles back. finding harry’s hand in the sheets, twining their fingers together, and says, ‘tired?’

harry nods minutely, corners of his mouth softening.

‘let’s just rest today, alright?’

louis is moving again. it’s hard to keep track of him, but soon he is sliding under the sheets next to harry. his little legs feel warm, solid, when they slot over his. louis snuggles close, reaching a hand up to drag and scratch softly through harry’s hair, and harry manages to lift his hand enough to fit it over louis’ waist. it feels lovely, the way they can just melt into each other.

harry can let the haze take over now that louis is here. he knows louis will always take care of him. he falls asleep quickly, listening to the sound of their mingled breathing.

 

when harry wakes up, sunlight is streaming strong and bright though the window and his hair is in louis’ hands.

louis looks dumbstruck, lost, like he never does. ‘haz, i-’

‘the chemo,’ harry whispers. his head is spinning. ‘my hair-’

they both watch it slip though louis’ fingers like sand. it falls, still curly and chocolate brown, onto the sheets, where they stare at it for another long moment. it looks deceptively healthy, shiny where it catches the light.

suddenly a nurse comes in, breaking the silence with the rattling cart carrying harry’s breakfast. she pauses too, looking shocked for a second before she pulls herself together.

‘oh harry,’ she pouts, bustling forward. ‘it’s alright, pet. it was always going to happen.’

her hands flutter for a moment, like she’s unsure of what to do with these two heartbroken boys and the mess on the bed. she settles to patting each of them on the shoulder, and nudging them to get up so she can take away the top sheet.

harry leans heavily on louis, still so weak from the cocktail of drugs he’s taking to keep the worst of the chemo symptoms at bay. louis seems to have come back to himself; he is holding harry securely around the waist and stroking the vague area of his collarbones with his other hand. it’s comforting in the way only louis’ touch can be. harry lets himself drift in and out, half watching the nurse fix his bed and half listening to louis whisper soothingly in his ear.

‘it’s alright, harry, it’ll be fine. it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, i love you.’

the nurse turns around and just looks at them for a moment, lips quirked up fondly.

‘come on, louis,’ she says, eyes soft, ‘better bring him straight into the bathroom.’

harry is led down the ward and into one of the large hospital bathrooms. it’s hard to keep track of everything that’s going on, with the dizziness and the frantic loop of ‘my hair my hair my hair’ running endlessly in his mind. he is grateful (over and over again) for the way louis holds him.

they sit him down in a chair in front of the sink. the nurse leaves to get someone else, and louis and harry are left alone. louis touches harry’s cheek and kisses him quickly.

‘talk to me,’ he says. his eyes dart over harry’s face. ‘tell me what you’re thinking.’

harry takes a huge, deep breath. he’s thinking ‘is this really happening?’ he’s thinking ‘please, make it all go away’. he’s thinking ‘will you still love me?’

his voice comes out weak, helpless, ‘my hair...’ he hopes he is saying everything he wants to.

louis looks like he might cry. that can’t happen; louis is the strong one, for both of them. he seems to know that, too. harry can see it in the way he presses his lips together, sets his jaw.

‘it’ll be fine, okay. you’re here, that’s what matters.’

it brings him back to earth just in time for his mother to walk in.

she must have just arrived, and someone’s called her in here. harry wonders how much time has passed since he woke up. the too-bright fluorescent lights don’t help to clear the haze over his vision, the strange softness in the space surrounding him. in a way he wishes the shock of losing his hair would hit him harder, make his throat close up and his heart pound and his stomach twist, make him yell and sob and scream, but it seems like he’s still too out of it for that. all he can feel is this feeble ache, this helpless kind of disappointment.

he focuses in on his mum again. she doesn’t bother with the helpless ‘oh harry’s that the nurses do. she comes up behind him and says, ‘morning, babe.’ then she leans down to press her lips to his forehead, hard, like she’s trying to transfer some of her strength into him. that and the pressure of louis’ hand in his are the only things that keep harry anchored, and even then it’s hard to cling to the seconds as they pass.

anne is talking to louis, now. ‘you should get to school, love.’

harry feels louis’ fingers tighten around his. ‘no, it’s fine, really-’

‘louis.’ her eyes narrow, and she’s put on that stern motherly tone that nobody can ignore. ‘i won’t let you throw away your education for,’ she hesitates. ‘all this. can you come and visit this afternoon?’

harry raises his free hand to his hair, while they talk. he pulls at it with all the strength he has, which isn’t much, but should be enough to cause at least a little bit of pain. he feels nothing, but when he pulls his hand away, and the hair he had gripped comes with it. the sting that he didn’t feel in his scalp stabs into his chest.

and then louis is nodding and biting his soft little lip and leaning down to kiss harry goodbye. it’s quick because of his mum and the nurses, and louis only has a second to whisper, ‘i love you, babe, i’ll be back later,’ so it seems like no time at all before he’s walking out.

and it’s not that harry holds it against him, because he would never, ever. louis does so much for him that any time he spends away is earned a thousand times over. it’s just that it becomes very hard to stay present when louis isn’t there. like he’s the focus lens and without it harry can’t distinguish more than shadows.

there are gentle voices, telling him that its best if we just cut it all off now, darling. less mess. and oh we’re so sorry harry, don’t cry now love, it’s alright, mum’s here. and harry thinks can’t they see the bigger mess inside? it’s hurting, mum, my hair, i’m sorry, before his awareness fades out.

 

harry is staring out of the window again. his scalp feels itchy in the fresh air, not used to being exposed yet. somehow he feels a lot stronger that he did this morning, almost like his hair had been weighing him down. it’s probably just because they lowered his painkiller dosage at lunchtime. either way, now that the grogginess is gone, harry finds himself missing it. his thoughts are more painful like this.

he wonders again if louis will still love him. he does look very different, but it’s not even that. it’s more than the whole thing is visible now. the thing is, louis is so good at pretending harry isn’t sick. he will sit with him for hours, talking about school and football the way they always used to, complaining about his sisters and his homework and the idiots in his football team. harry doesn’t feel that awkward, sympathetic lilt in every conversation they have, like he does with people like his uncle and his other school friends. and when harry is feeling strong louis will kiss him just like he used to. (once he even gave harry a blowjob when he was allowed to stay the night.) he still treats him just the same, and it helps, god it helps. it’s so nice for harry to feel like someone gets that he is still the same person, if a little weaker. the cancer is always there in some form – an ache in his stomach, a light bruise on his chest – but louis makes it easier to forget.

but now, harry thinks, it will be different. the bare skin of his scalp will always remind louis, make it harder for him to play along. the cancer is a tangible thing, now, rather than some phantom bacteria inside harry’s body.

it all hits harry at once, that this is real, this is happening, and fuck, if louis leaves now he doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to keep going and-

his face crumples up; the new tears feel hot on his cheeks. he watches his hands shake and clench in his lap until his vision blurs over. his mind is running with all these ‘what if’s’ and there is a throbbing somewhere deep and he touches where his hair used to be like it’s a time bomb about to detonate. he lets himself cry for a minute, counts out to sixty between shaky sobs. then he pulls himself together. he smears at his cheeks like a child, blinking hard and forcing air down, bringing his mind back to his pale white room.

he can look at the clock today, so he knows that louis will be here soon. and god, it’s an awful thought, but harry wants to make the most of this visit. in case it’s the last.

 

it doesn’t happen the way harry thought it would.

louis bursts in the door grinning, lopes towards harry like he hasn’t seen him in months. he kicks off his shoes where he always does, right next to the bed where the nurses will trip over them and scold him, climbs on top of harry and kisses him hard. the sudden weight and the way louis’ thighs tighten under harry’s hands and the feeling of him licking hot into harry’s mouth without a word; it’s all very-

harry is surprised, but absolutely not uncomfortable.

louis meets harry’s tongue with his and grinds down like he’s desperate and it feels fast and dirty and sexy, but the hand that louis would normally fist in harry’s hair is resting so gently against his bare scalp, cradling the new skin like it’s something precious, that the kiss feels like something tender, too.

louis bites at harry’s bottom lip a little as he pulls away, only to kiss down his jawline and suck on the hollow of his throat.

‘harry, fuck,’ he murmurs, lips dragging. ‘you’re so hot.’

harry lets out his breath in a little helpless laugh, clutching at louis’ thighs. he doesn’t know what to say; he hadn’t prepared for a reaction like this. ‘lou, what-’ he gasp-laughs again at the way louis teeth feel on the sensitive skin of his neck. ‘what are you doing?’

louis pulls back, thumbing at the red spot under harry’s jaw, and smiles. he’s still rocking a little in his lap. ‘y’look like a sexy biker or a bad boy or summat, i love it,’ he says, running a hand over harry’s head. ‘fuck, you look really good, babe.’

‘well, thanks.’ harry’s blushing, surprised. ‘the nurses just, uh, shaved it. it was easier than waiting for it all to fall out, and stuff, so-’

louis kisses him again quickly, then leans down to breathe out softly on the love bite he’d left before.

the cool air on his skin makes harry shiver, but he is smiling.

he should have known that if one person could have made him feel okay about this whole thing, louis could.


End file.
